


Quickening

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Ficlet, Fluff, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-War, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-04
Updated: 2010-06-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 12:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Sprouts represent new life, and spring is coming.





	Quickening

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Teenyfic written for Syven, who asked for "Ginny/Neville - married with baby on the way. Greenhouse involved somehow".

White flakes sifted down gently from the sky as Ginny crossed the back garden to the greenhouse. Stamping her feet to remove the snow crusting her shoes, she opened the door and quickly slipped inside. A breath of cold air followed her in despite her efforts, and Neville looked up.

“Is it dinner time already?” he asked, straightening from the potting table, filled with seedling trays.

“What do you mean, _already_? You came out here two hours ago.” Ginny smiled, softening her words. Loosening her scarf, she shook out her hair and moved to his side, her arm going around his waist. “I know you, Neville. But yes, dinner is ready.”

“I’m sorry.” Neville turned toward her, nuzzling her cheek, one hand going to the burgeoning swell of her abdomen. “I didn’t mean to keep you or the wee one waiting. I just lost track of time, and then I noticed these and I was admiring them.”

“Admiring?” Ginny turned her head, studying the seedling trays. “Admiring what?”

“Look,” Neville murmured, his breath warm against Ginny’s ear. “They’ve begun sprouting.”

Peering more closely at the trays and their contents, Ginny finally saw specks of green amongst the rich black soil, tiny stems pushing up from the earth and into the light, leaves smaller than a single droplet of water unfurling in the warm environs of the greenhouse. The shoots were so young, so recently germinated, Ginny couldn’t tell if they were supposed to be flower or vegetable, ornamental or intended for use in a future potion.

“They’re very...small,” Ginny offered. What was she supposed to say? That they were cute? Sweet? Adorable?

“They’ll grow.” Neville didn’t seem affronted by his wife’s lack of enthusiasm. He knew she preferred Quidditch to plants. “The important thing, though, is that they’re sprouting. It means they’ve quickened, and they’re sprouting, and spring will be here before we know it.” His fingers tightened slightly over the curve of Ginny’s abdomen. “Along with our own little Sprout.”

The baby kicked his palm, and Ginny giggled at the almost comical look of surprise on Neville’s face. She’d felt their child moving within her for a few weeks now, but this was the first he (or she) had kicked hard enough for Neville to feel it as well.

“Was that...?” he breathed, staring down at her stomach.

“That was Baby Longbottom,” she answered, watching Neville’s lips curve into a delighted grin. “I think he’s jealous of your other sprouts.”

“He shouldn’t be.” Neville tugged her into his arms, head lowering to claim her lips. “He’ll always be my favourite little Sprout.”

Ginny kissed him back, hands already lifting toward his collar, undoing the top button with a deft twist of her fingers. Dinner could definitely wait.


End file.
